samarel erotic art

Delightful Debi
Art Samarel | Poetry Paul Sardanas

The curve of my back,
the beckoning arc of my leg,
are silent invitations
to take me from behind,
in a fever of want.

I float in a sea of electric fire,
it pours from me, in waves
that can only be quenched with lust
that goes beyond every boundary.

Green eyes that speak a language
of pure desire.
A mouth that curls
with fierce delight and anticipation.

Come to me in the morning,
flickering along the cyber pathways.
The scent of coffee in my cup
fades in a wave of musk
as I read your message on the screen,
and burn with desire to touch myself.
I am dreaming that you are here,
that yours is the hand
bringing me to a screaming climax
with all the skill in your fingers.
How I wish it was your cock,
pinning me to this chair.
Tell me now, in frantic words
across the screen,
how much you want to fuck me,
and I will make it true,
with every exquisite moan
that fills the air around me.

Leaning back into the embrace
of a sensual dream,
I am waiting for you to tear these shoes
from my feet, and fuck me
with an animal’s hunger.

I will look into your eyes
as I open myself for you,
heat from within smoldering
in my hungry gaze.

Dark lover, fill me with everything you have,
put your perfect shadowed spike into me.
I am pure heat, and will take you
to the place where all darkness melts.

Before a pillar of bronze,
I sink to my knees
in the blur of lust
to hurl myself against that strength,
pour myself over it,
and turn it molten,
into metal that hungers
for the river of my flesh.
My tongue against muscles
that ripple with power,
could tease pleasure
from even a tower,
from a statue carved
with the very essence of desire.

You know where I will take you.
With my lips around your cock,
you will rise to a height unimaginable,
and fall from that cliff into a pool
of red-lipped, consummate rapture.

There is no way to imagine
the landscape of passion
that is behind my narrowed eyes,
hungry and dark-edged with burning life.

. . .